


Just Cause or Impediment

by stellatundra



Category: Revenge (TV)
Genre: Gen, Season/Series 01, Treat, Yuletide 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 17:59:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellatundra/pseuds/stellatundra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emily goes ahead with her wedding to Daniel, determined it will be a ceremony the Graysons never forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Cause or Impediment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thisismylie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisismylie/gifts).



> A treat for thisismylie.
> 
> ETA: I wrote this long before I saw season 3 or knew what happened in it, so if it seems a bit redundant now, that's why!

_You want a revelation, some kind of resolution_  
Florence and the Machine – No Light No Light

 

The limo glides to a halt outside the church. Emily takes a deep breath and adjusts her veil. Everything has to be perfect. She can’t afford even a moment of weakness, not now. She’s been waiting too long for this.

“Ems.” Nolan’s hand closes around her wrist. She’s avoided looking at him for the duration of the drive, knowing exactly what she’ll see in his eyes. Pleading. Pity, even. “You don’t have to do this,” he says, with a rueful twist of his mouth that tells her he already knows she won’t listen to him. “It’s not too late.” She shakes her head because it is – far, far too late. Too late for regrets, too late for redemption. “We could just drive off now. Drive to the airport, catch a plane. Somewhere hot. Spend the rest of our lives sitting on a beach drinking pina coladas.”

“Nolan.” 

He sighs, lets go of her wrist and reaches to open his door. He knows as well as she does that this isn’t a story where anybody gets to ride off into the sunset.

Emily wonders what the driver is thinking. That she and Nolan are secret lovers, perhaps. It’s funny that of all the times she’s sneaked off to whisper furiously with him in corners that nobody else has ever seemed to make that assumption. They’ve made a different assumption, thinking that just because Nolan sleeps with men that he doesn’t sleep with women too. For a second she considers ditching her carefully prepared speech and announcing she’s running off with Nolan, just to see the look on all their faces. She even considers throwing herself into his arms just to see the look on _Nolan’s_ face.

But only for a second. 

She’s got a wedding to go to.

Emily fixes a beatific smile on her face. She’s ready.

 

Emily’s careful not to crinkle her dress as she steps out of the limo to the flash of cameras. She focusses on the powder blue of Nolan’s suit as she takes his arm.

“I still can’t believe you talked me into giving you away,” Nolan mutters.

“You were my dad’s closest friend,” Emily says leaning in for a brief hug. Nolan smiles dutifully for the photographer. “And you’re my closest friend,” she adds in a whisper, which makes his smile stutter. It’s a rare moment of honesty, and she almost regrets it when he looks at her in that devastatingly sincere way. She doesn’t have time for sincerity.

Music fills the air as she and Nolan step into the church and Emily feels a swell of satisfaction, knowing her goal is within her grasp. Not exactly the blushing bride. Emily’s eyes land on Victoria, and she can’t help wondering whether she’d felt something similar when she’d married Conrad. It’s almost jarring, that she’s actively thinking of the similarities between the two of them. 

Emily focusses instead on Daniel, handsome and visibly nervous as he stands waiting for her at the altar. He’ll be hurt in all of this, she knows, but he’ll bounce back. He’s a Grayson, after all. Once he realises that what they had was never really real, that the Emily Thorne he thinks he loves never really existed, he’ll be fine. She won’t lose sleep over his broken heart. After all, he didn’t lose any sleep when he discovered the truth about what his family had done to hers. He’s demonstrated now where his loyalties and his morality lie: in the gutter, with his father’s.

The long walk up the aisle ends. Nolan lets go of her arm with a final squeeze of solidarity. But there is no solidarity in revenge. For all her words outside the church, Emily knows she’s in this alone. For better or worse. 

She looks around. Conrad’s beaming benevolently, despite the shadows beneath his eyes. Victoria is looking distinctly uncomfortable in her Dolce dress – probably something to do with Emily’s speech at the rehearsal dinner. Innocuous enough to everyone else, but to Victoria the words she once wrote to David Clarke, discovered among her father’s effects, must have been an unwelcome reminder of her past crimes. 

Victoria hasn’t figured it all out yet, Emily knows. She would have found a way to call off the wedding if she had. But she’ll know soon enough. They all will.

“Dearly beloved,” the priest begins, “we are gathered here today…”

Emily smiles sweetly, letting the words of the ceremony wash over her, until the priest reaches the words she’s been waiting for:

“I charge you all therefore, that if any of you know of any just cause or impediment why these two persons may not be legally joined together in Holy Matrimony, to speak now or else hereafter for ever hold your peace.”

For a second she freezes. It’s almost too much, the time and money and energy invested in this charade. It’s not easy to cast it all aside. She has to trust it will all play out as she has planned -- and trust is not something that comes easily to her.

Emily turns and catches Nolan’s eye. He raises one eyebrow at her. _Not too late_ , he seems to be saying. Emily turns back to look at Daniel. She’s shared his bed, whispered words of love. She’s cared about him, in as much as she can care about anything outside of her revenge, stood by him during his trial. But she cannot be a Grayson. That’s a step too far. This is the moment of truth, after twenty years of lies.

Daniel must see something of the resolve in her face, because his own smile fades. The priest, oblivious, readies himself to carry on with the ceremony when Emily speaks up, voice clear and steady.

“I know of an impediment.”

There are whispers and mutters behind her.

“Emily,” Daniel objects, starting forward.

“I’m sorry, Daniel,” she says, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I can’t marry you. My name isn’t Emily Thorne. My name is Amanda Clarke. When I was a child, my father was framed for a crime he didn’t commit. Before he died, he left a road map for revenge that led me to the people who destroyed our lives. My father was innocent. Conrad and Victoria Grayson are responsible for the downing of Flight 197. They framed my father, and they murdered him. Conrad and Victoria are guilty of murder, kidnapping, money laundering, terrorism, extortion, intimidation and jury tampering. They have betrayed the trust of everyone who knows them. Evidence of their crimes is already in the hands of the appropriate federal authorities.” Emily pauses. Right on cue, the sound of sirens outside can be heard. Emily’s lip curls into a vicious smile. 

Victoria leaps to her feet angrily and all but launches herself at Emily. 

“You scheming bitch,” Victoria hisses at her. Emily laughs, echoing around the pin-drop silence of the church.

“It takes one to know one, Victoria.”

Conrad leaps to his feet and pulls his wife away by the arm before she can incriminate them both any further, no doubt. 

“Everyone, if you could please take your seats. I’m afraid my son’s fiancée is quite unwell –“

But it’s too late for dissembling. Anyone who cared to read the truth of her claims could do so in Daniel’s resigned expression, Victoria’s snarl, the beads of sweat on Conrad’s forehead. 

Charlotte, dressed in red silk and holding Emily’s discarded bouquet, lets out a pained gasp as she realises the depth of her family’s deception. Emily feels a pang of misgiving at the hurt in her half-sister’s eyes. There’s been so much collateral damage in her request for revenge. She’s hurt Jack more than she planned to and Charlotte – well, she never planned for Charlotte at all. She’d always thought there would be time for them, after, but now she’s not so sure. Maybe what she’s done today will estrange both of them for good.

Maybe there is no after.

There’s the flash of lights through the stained glass windows and the sound of boots on the cold stone floor as the cops march in. 

They say revenge is a dish best served cold. Emily had always known it would never make her happy, but she’d expected to at least feel satisfaction now that her mission is complete. But even as the feds storm the church and Conrad and Victoria are led away in handcuffs there’s nothing but a chilly emptiness, spreading like splintering ice in her heart.

It’s not _enough_. She’s taken their money, their good name, their freedom and it’s not enough. She wants them bruised and broken, cowering before her.

It’s not enough.

She's not sure anything ever would be.


End file.
